


The Dance of Earth and Wind

by jellybeanfactory



Category: Kyou Kara Maou!
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-11-22
Updated: 2008-11-22
Packaged: 2017-10-10 20:14:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/103828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jellybeanfactory/pseuds/jellybeanfactory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A modern revival of a classic dance causes some problems for Gwendal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Dance of Earth and Wind

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to MD for the beta. This fic also contains some shameless assumptions over canon.

Many would balk at the very idea of Cecile von Spitzberg's eldest as a skilled and elegant dancer, but the truth of the matter was Gwendal quite enjoyed and excelled in this particular frivolity. His tutors heaped praises upon him, his dance partners were reluctant to relinquish their turn, and many a young man would throw envious glances at him while he led a pretty young girl (or boy) across the floor.

However, there was one dance in particular that was the current fad and something of a favorite of his mother's -- the Dance of Earth and Wind. It was a more modern revival of a classic dance with a legend for its basis, one that dealt with hunting and courtship. Gwendal had performed it a number of times during balls and parties to admiring claps, and he grew very fond of his role as Earth.

That was when he was dancing with ladies, however.

If he was unfortunate enough to be cornered into dancing with some noble's heir apparent, brother, father, uncle, nephew (most often instigated by his own mother), then the dance just very methodically fell apart from there. When Gwendal tried to explain to his mother that dancing this particular dance with men wasn't the same as dancing it with women -- and while he might have been praised for his skill with the latter, the former was quite another thing entirely -- Cheri merely shook her head and said, "I don't see why it should be different. Same dance, different partners, whatever's so difficult about that? You're just downplaying your skills as usual, Gwen."

Past attempts at performing the dance with men suffered subtle power struggles over who should lead, and, even after overcoming this obstacle, there would be a certain stiffness to the movements that made the dance awkward and unattractive. It was the dance itself, Gwendal knew -- it required two very specific roles between its participants. And if your partner was a man trained in arms and leadership, then it was almost a sure thing that he would wish to play Earth, and very uncomfortable questions would follow -- like "do I look like a Wind person to you?", "why can't you be Wind?", and "this won't do, so can we just wait for the next dance, then?" Gwendal himself refused to surrender his role as the lead, though his rationale was perhaps more practical than the others' -- he was terrible as the Wind, in a way that he wished never to be witnessed in public.

It was for this reason that Gwendal grit his teeth and firmed his lips as if to stifle an invective from escaping when Cheri von Spitzberg insisted he partner with an heir of one of the Ten Noble Families, just as the musicians announced the name of the next dance.

"I'm really not feeling well tonight, Mother."

"Nonsense! You're perfectly fine. And your nose isn't red, so I know you're not drunk yet." She turned to the man beside her with nary a second thought to the embarrassment she'd just caused her eldest. Thankfully, Gwendal was used to it. "Let me introduce you to Gunter von Christ. He's actually a family friend, but the two of you haven't had occasion to meet yet."

Gunter von Christ appeared every inch a member of Cheri's close-knit circle of noble socialites. He was pretty, diplomatic, and very fashionable. There was a careful attention to detail to his whole ensemble -- from his jewelry, hair, outfit, to his polished shoes -- that closely echoed his mother's. The outfit itself was very classy and fetching, and he thought it was rather daring of this man to be wearing it in white.

In other words, he was exactly the sort of person Gwendal tended to avoid, as he could easily picture this man occupying one of his mother's sitting rooms, having tea and laughing at the follies of men and war.

He obligingly exchanged pleasantries with him.

"My son is an _excellent_ dancer," Cheri bragged, in that superfluous way that proud mothers who barely knew their sons often do. "Why, just last week he was dancing Earth and Wind with Lord Blackthorne! Quite the center of attention."

Gunter's expression was carefully polite when he said, "Yes, I've heard of that." Which, Gwendal ascertained, could only mean that Gunter had also heard of what a disaster it had been.

A feeling of dread steadily crept up Gwendal's spine when the music queue began playing the first few notes of the Dance of Earth and Wind's prologue. Just as he began one last endeavor to worm his way out of it by inventing some military business that needed a swift seeing to, Gunter's own polite refusal collided with his speech, and both efforts only resulted in making Cheri laugh.

"It's a wonder you two haven't met yet. Why, you're already in sync!" Cheri then laid a gentle hand on Gwendal's arm and leaned entreatingly close. "Gwen, I promised Gunter a dance with you today. And after I'd emphasized what a terrific dancer you are, it would be rude not to at least demonstrate some of that skill this evening." She left off with a small pat and a wink, and sashayed toward another group of her friends. Presumably to tell them her son was about to perform.

"It wouldn't be all that rude if you'd prefer not to, really," Gunter helpfully said, after a moment's silence. "Your mother's quite...inventive when she wishes to be, isn't she?"

Gwendal sighed. "That promise she just mentioned...?"

"Made entirely without my knowledge."

"Ah." He'd guessed as much.

"I admit to some curiosity," Gunter quickly said. "My niece had enjoyed a dance with you last spring, and she had many great things to say about it."

Gwendal silently prayed that Gunter wouldn't follow this particular line of dialogue, as he could recall neither this niece's name nor her face. "I'm sure whatever you've heard has been exaggerated a great deal, and tonight will only prove to correct it."

The sound of chimes rang clearly throughout the ballroom, signaling the cue for the dance to start. Gwendal braced himself for the inevitable argument over which roles should be played by which person, when Gunter said the most unexpected thing:

"I hope you wouldn't mind terribly if I appropriated the role of Wind."

This extremely pleasing statement delivered in such a blunt and timely manner served to render Gwendal speechless. Gunter completely mistook the silence and backpedaled with, "Oh, not that I mind playing as the Earth at all -- I mean, if you'd rather the other role, I'm perfectly fine with that. It's just that being Earth is rather brutal on me -- all those sharp turns and firm steps, I'm afraid it's hell on my waist afterwards."

Gwendal looked down to see that yes, his waist was, indeed, rather slim and frail-looking.

"I prefer Earth," Gwendal said. He wondered briefly if he should clarify his hesitation, and thought it perhaps more polite to do so. "Not many men seem to desire Wind, and I'm afraid that's been tarnishing my reputation of late as I'm absolutely unsuited for the role."

"I can't imagine why other men wouldn't want to be Wind to your Earth," Gunter replied, while wrapping his arms about Gwendal's neck in answer to Gwendal's gesture to prepare for the dance, "even before dancing, you seem to have the perfect disposition for it."

He wondered briefly if it would be rude to say that Gunter seemed perfectly suited for the role of Wind as well, and thought it best to keep that particular opinion to himself.

The floor's occupants were reduced by half, as the fad was still at that stage where people would rather witness it than actually be part of the performance. The larger space also proved beneficial to the remaining dancers, as a great many steps required a wider berth than most.

The strong beat of drums signaling the start of the dance began, and Gwendal, with Gunter appropriately in his arms (he couldn't help noticing how large his hand looked on that waist -- not something he noticed often unless the other person was wearing a corset), led them both through the severe rhythm of the Earth challenging all the other elements for superiority over the Wind.

It was by no means a simple dance, despite its popularity, and whatever doubts Gwendal had regarding Gunter's knowledge of it was quickly quenched during the first spin. Gunter's feet were light on the floor as Gwendal's were heavy and firm -- they each played their roles to perfection. The older man's white garments swirled with every outward twirl and harshly flicked whenever Gwendal reeled him back into his arms. Before long, and without either participant's knowing, the other dancers had cleared a wider space for the two of them, and more had merely stayed on the sidelines to watch the von Voltaire lord dance with the von Christ heir.

Gwendal was enjoying himself immensely. He went through the route of the steps with ease, every movement a posed question, every forward step a challenge. He felt Gunter's replies as surely as if they were being spoken directly into his ear, and though he knew this dance by heart, it was only now that it felt absolutely instinctive.

The original Earth and Wind was said to have been a performance of three parts, and a large change to this modern revival was the complete removal of the third, which bespoke of the Wind's surrender to the Earth's overtures. It was intimate and provocative, and hardly suitable to casual high society parties. For once, Gwendal spared a mournful thought to the removal of those steps, because he thought he would not have minded performing them tonight, in this heat, with this music, and with this particular man in his arms.

The dance ended with a great flourish, accompanied with an admirable applause from the observers. Gwendal couldn't help chancing a brief glance at his mother, and, true to form, she was looking incredibly pleased with herself.

He hadn't realized he was still gripping Gunter's wrist until the other man tried to walk away from the dance floor and discovered that he could not. With an amused glance at Gwendal, he tugged his captured arm and said, "I'm flattered you've developed an attachment to my wrist, but I'm going to need it."

Gwendal felt his face heat up and hoped to Shinou he wasn't blushing. He muttered an apology and released him. "If you find yourself otherwise unoccupied later tonight, I would very much enjoy another dance with you, should you be available." Judging from the eager way that other people were eyeing both him and Gunter, their dance cards were going to be quite full for the next few hours. But the thought of letting the night close without so much as another dance from the other man left Gwendal feeling a little unsatisfied.

"After a performance like that, Lord von Voltaire," Gunter replied, "you needn't even ask."

The dance floor was fast becoming packed again, and they parted. Very soon after, Gwendal was occupied with escorting young nobles through the steps of the usual ballroom dances. He caught sight of Gunter a few times, and was surprised to discover him back in his mother's company and declining dance offers from a few gentlemen.

It was deep into the night when the entertainment waned and Gwendal was allowed some reprieve from his social duties. He took refuge in one of the open balconies, nursing a glass of wine and contemplating the stars, and the second dance he had yet to enjoy.

"That was very impressive, Gwen." Cheri's lilting voice drifted from behind him. He waited until she joined him at the balcony before looking inquiringly at her. "Earlier, with Gunter," she clarified, while wrapping her arm around his, as she habitually did when they were alone together. "He said you stole his breath away."

"It was nothing so grand as that," Gwendal muttered. "The dance has essentially been in existence for centuries, and he was as well-versed in it as I was. Perhaps moreso."

"Oh, Gwen." The brand of amusement in his mother's voice was one he was well-acquainted with, as it often meant she was laughing at him. "He didn't mean the dance."

Fin.


End file.
